


The Armies of Those I Love

by jenny_of_oldstones



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/F, Internalized Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Pride, Queer Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-25 06:37:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16656094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenny_of_oldstones/pseuds/jenny_of_oldstones
Summary: The Andromeda Initiative wants Ryder to be the keynote speaker at Andromeda's first Gay Pride.Ryder doesn't want to do it.





	The Armies of Those I Love

 

Tann, of all people, was the one to send her the invitation.

“He wants me to be the keynote speaker at Pride.” Ryder kicked off the bulkhead and went flying over the rover bay. Gravity had been temporarily turned off for diagnostics, and the crew was taking advantage of it with a nerf fight. “On the Initiative parade float.”

She took a shot at Liam. He ducked, and the foam dart whiffed past him. “So, are you going to say yes?”

“Dunno.” Ryder bumped against the ceiling and used it to kick off again. Liam took two shots at her and missed.

“I’m sure the community would appreciate it,” said Cora. She crouched down near a cargo crate.

“Maybe!” Ryder spun, letting Cora’s darts breeze by her. “I kinda feel like a fraud at these kinds of things.”

“Why?" asked Liam. 

Ryder wanted to say that if he had to ask, he wouldn’t understand, but instead she kicked off the floor, stretched into a dive, and shot him right in the forehead with a suction-cupped dart.

“Oh, damn!” Liam caught her arm to stop her from floating away. He pulled the dart off his forehead and handed it back to her. “I think we should trade guns. Mine never seems to fire as fast as yours.”

“Check your spring.” Ryder took the dart and loaded it back into the chamber of her own gun. “If anyone other than Tann had asked, I might do it.”

It wasn't true, but Liam took the bait. “It’s not the first time he’s tried to shove you in the spotlight. You think he’s trying to get something out of it?”

“He probably wants to make himself look good with the community,” said Ryder. “Or…”

“No.” Liam grinned.

“He might be,” said Ryder. “Hard to tell with salarians—”

Cora came zooming out from behind the cargo crate. Two quick squeezes of her trigger, and both Ryder and Liam were barraged with nerf darts.

“Motherfucker,” said Ryder.

Taken down by a straight girl.

 

* * *

 

The first Pride was held on the Citadel Presidium in the year 2165.

It was directed by Yasumi Matsuno, who welcomed anyone and everyone who wanted to celebrate gender and sexual diversity. The event drew several hundred visitors of all races. The Pride parade, which was small, given the limitations of the Presidium’s main thoroughfare, also had omnitool interface, which detailed the history of the LGBTQ+ liberation movement on Earth. The next year saw a quadrupling of attendees, and has expanded in scale and scope ever since, eventually relocating to a larger event space in the Thera Ward.

 

* * *

 

Regardless of what Ryder wanted, the announcement for Andromeda’s first Pride went out the next day. It was going to take place on Meridian, with sister celebrations on Eos and Voeld.

There would be singers, vendors, picnics, and, of course, a parade. An entire weekend of partying, all devoted to celebrating queerness in Andromeda.

Ryder checked the official extranet website. To her relief, the Notable Attendees page remained TBA. Tann had been pressuring her, but he at least hadn’t gone behind her back and promised anything.

“How much you want to bet every asari in Andromeda is going to be there hoping to get laid?” Peebee was tinkering with Zap, typing onto a keyboard and occasionally checking the loadout on Zap’s interface panel.

Ryder lay on her back on Peebee’s bed, flicking through message boards on her omnitool. “Are you going?”

“To Pride?” Peebee snorted. “Wouldn’t be caught dead.”

Most of the asari on the message board agreed with her sentiment. They seemed to think they were too cool for Pride, unless it was to find a quick hookup.

“You could go and keep your friends company,” said Ryder.

“Oh, I suppose I could be persuaded,” said Peebee. “Assuming, of course, someone brings alcohol and those shrimp cocktails you people go on about. I can spend all day telling horny asari that no, I don't want to make out with them. That’ll be fun.”

“Is that really something you worry about?”

“No,” said Peebee. “Maybe. The only asari who take Pride seriously are the ones who exclusively date other asari. They’re the closest thing we have to historical perverts.”

“And it would bother you if someone mistook you for one?” asked Ryder.

“Yeah. It’s embarrassing.”

"Even though you and Kalinda used to be together?" 

"That was a one time thing. It doesn't count." 

Ryder scrolled through a comment thread speculating about Tann’s sexual preferences. She scrolled even faster past one speculating about her own.

Peebee sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“I don't know what you're apologizing to me for.”

“I mean, it's, nevermind. You're right. I'll go. I’ll sit and drink beer and wear beads and get sunburned.”

There was a massive thread on Ryder and Vetra’s relationship, and Ryder scrolled past it fastest of all.

“But you know,” said Peebee. “If I’m not allowed to be embarrassed, then neither are you.”

“Who said I was?” said Ryder, and shut down her omnitool.

 

* * *

 

"Queerness" as a construct has long been contentious among the galactic community.

The asari, for instance, found humanity's first Citadel Pride to be quaint—regressive even. “Queerness” had no inherent value in their culture, being a race of people for whom sexuality and gender are inherently fluid.

Nevertheless, certain groups of asari were drawn to Pride. "Per'ah," a term meaning "aberrant desire," has historically been used as a slur for asari who are attracted exclusively to other asari. In 2167, a delegation of asari per'ah hosted their first float in the Citadel Pride parade.

Response by other asari on the Citadel was mixed, to say the least. 

 

* * *

 

Vetra was stockpiling beads.

“I got these from a trader on Voeld.” She held up a string of pearls that were oddly iridescent. “They’re from a clam that grows beneath the ice and makes rainbow pearls. Isn’t it cool?”

Ryder jabbed a carrot stick at her hamster. The little bastard was tucked up in his plastic castle and refused to come out.

“I’m thinking I can wear at least sixty strands before they start to kill my back.” Vetra tossed the beads down on the mass of mismatched clothes piled together in a box labeled “GAY SHIT.” “You think they’ll give me a citation if I wear a strap-on in public? Then again, I’m the Pathfinder’s girlfriend, so what can they do?”

Ryder poked the hamster with the carrot. He gave her the stink eye and turned around, showing her his butt.

“On the other hand," said Vetra, “Sid is going to be there. She’ll be completely embarrassed if I walk around with a silicone dildo.”

“The perfect payback,” said Ryder.

“Exactly.” Vetra pounded a fist into her palm. “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get back at her for months after that stunt she pulled on H-047c. This might just be it.”

Ryder wedged the carrot in the doorway of the castle, barring the hamster inside.

“Ryder?”

Vetra’s voice was soft and nervous. It got that way, sometimes, when she was afraid she had done something wrong—as if Ryder might break up with her for stealing the blankets, or for taking a long shower, or for snorting when she laughed. It made Ryder want to hunt down every last person who had ever hurt Vetra or made her feel unloved and rip them in half.

“Yeah?” said Ryder.

“Are you okay? You’ve been really quiet the past two days.”

“Just a lot on my mind,” said Ryder.

“Is it about the parade?”

 **Ryder, I believe Miss Nyx desires your honesty,** said SAM.

 **That’s typically what people want when they ask questions, SAM,** thought Ryder back.

**Your anxiety levels have been higher than normal in the past forty-eight hours. Sharing your feelings with Miss Nyx might alleviate them.**

“I’m just tired,” said Ryder.

Vetra nodded, though the disappointment was clear in her eyes. “Have you decided whether or not to be the keynote speaker?”

“Not yet.” 

“But you still want to go, right?”

There it was again, that thin thread of desperation and hope. “Show me which dildo you’re planning on wearing.”

Vetra’s mandibles flared in a smile, but it was not a convincing one.

 

* * *

 

According to GLAAD Citadel, turians account for over two-thirds of the attendees at Citadel Pride.

The reasons for this are manyfold. Turian society is highly militaristic and conformist. Grassroots movements tend to be suppressed, with social progress being slow to bear fruit for marginalized groups. As such, homophobia and transphobia in turian society remains prevalent, despite having become less socially acceptable within the past few centuries.

As such, turians attended Pride in greater numbers year after year, eventually surpassing human attendees. Turian Pride eventually splintered off from Pride Main, citing disagreements with human committee members about terminology and shared history.

The first Pride to be held on Palavan was coordinated in 2175.

 

* * *

 

“I hate it,” said Gil.

“Well, too bad,” said Jill. “Because I love it.”

Ryder came around the corner. Jill stood in front of the Tempest’s mess hall, Gil leaning against the wall beside her. She was wearing a grey shirt that said, OFFICIAL HAG. The words were stretched over her baby bump.

“You sure you don’t want to wear a ‘OFFICIAL SPERM DONOR’ shirt?” Ryder said to Gil.

“No thanks,” he said.

“Oh, come on. It could have a turkey baster on it,” said Jill.

“is that really what you used?” asked Ryder.

“God no,” said Jill. “We have applicators for that.”

Gil rubbed his eyes. “Okay, rule number one, neither of you is allowed to have this type of conversations within twenty feet of me at the parade.”

“We’re official man repellent,” said Jill. “Ryder has my back though, don’t you?”

“Actually, I still don’t know if I’m going.”

“What? why?” asked Jill.

“Work,” said Ryder. “Paperwork.”

“Ryder, this is literally an excuse to sit around and drink beer while watching half-naked people,” said Gil. “And it’s the first one. You only get one of those.”

“I’m thinking about it,” said Ryder.

“You had better,” said Jill. “A lot of people would be stoked to see you there.”

“Why are you here, by the way?” asked Ryder.

“I just came to give dad an update on the nugget,” said Jill, patting her stomach. “I get kinda weepy about it, so I figured I’d hop over while you guys were in port so this loser could tell me I’m pretty and that my boobs aren’t sagging.”

“All the thrills of marriage minus the sex,” said Gil, drily.

Ryder felt a sudden pang in her chest. Right then, she could imagine the fun her friends would be having at Pride without her. It filled her with an ache she hadn’t experienced since before Andromeda—that unique need to be with community that was sad and hopeful at the same time.

“Are you okay?” said Jill, frowning. “You seem a little down about this parade.”

“I, for one, am excited for it,” said Jaal.

They looked up to see him on the transparent bridge overhead. The angara came down the ladder to join them.

“Do angara even understand Pride?” asked Ryder.

“I have read the Initiative bulletin,” said Jaal, “as well as researched the history of 'the queers.'”

Jill snorted.

“Does any of it jive with how angara define gender and sexuality?” asked Ryder.

“Not particularly,” said Jaal. “It is possible our culture was different before the kett, but the records do not say. Our pair bonding has always been communal, fluid. Love and joy are gifts to be shared freely, regardless of the body or soul-shape of the person we give it to. I find it hard to fathom trying to prevent anyone from sharing intimacy.”

“Maybe you are better than us, then,” said Gil.

“Patronizing,” said Jaal. “But I’ll accept it as a compliment.”

“So you’re going?” asked Ryder. “For sure?”

“Of course,” said Jaal. “Many angara are. We would not miss out on this cultural exchange. Or,” he said, meaningfully, “this chance to celebrate love after so much chaos.”

He touched Ryder’s shoulder then, and the ache inside her became a stinging behind her eyes.

 

* * *

 

While queer humans and turians have embraced Pride out of a shared history of oppression, other races remain skeptical.

Salarian sexuality is rarely taken as a matter of personal identity, but rather as a matter of political transaction. Drell, whose home planet has long been resource-poor, actively encourage homosexuality to curb population booms. Hanar views on gender and sexual identity are mathematical, even musical, and have viewed Pride with as much confusion as Pride goers have viewed them.

Still, other races have found solidarity in the message and history of the event. Elcor, quarian, and krogan, all of whom have experience of some degree in cultural and historical homophobia and transphobia, have had upticks of attendance since the first Citadel pride in 2165.

“WITH GREAT FEELING: we all exist at the margins in different ways,” said Helbis Artava, an elcor tri-gender attendee in 2173. “Why not explore them together?”

 

* * *

 

After three days of ignoring Tann’s email, Ryder did what she always did when she was too hardheaded to work things out on her own.

She went and found her brother.

It wasn’t difficult. One quick hop through the galaxy and the Tempest set down on Kadara. She took the elevator down to Tartarus, and knocked on Reyes Vidal’s backroom suite.

Scott answered the door.

“I thought you wouldn’t be here until noon?” He dragged her inside and shut the door. He was naked except for a pair of briefs. The hug he gave her was sticky, and his armpits reeked of sweat.

“We made good time," said Ryder. "Why do you smell like you haven’t showered in a week?”

“Because there’s a water shortage.” Scott went over to a mini fridge and pulled out a beer.

“You going to offer me one?” asked Ryder.

“This is _Heineken_ ,” said Scott. He sat down on the faded black couch. “You got a replacement fridge full of real Heineken?”

“The perks of dating the Charlatan.” 

“Hey, your girl is just as good at digging up contraband on the black market.” Scott scratched his stomach. “How is V?”

“Tall and spiky. You said there’s a water shortage?”

“It’s been a pain,” said Scott. “But that’s Kadara. One minute it’s rolling blackouts, the next the purification system is down. Running this place is a fulltime job. Reyes will be back eventually, if you want to stick around.”

Ryder took in the state of the suite. “God, Scott, is there anything you two haven’t fucked on in here?”

Scott grinned at her around his beer bottle.

“So, little sis, what’s on your mind?” Scott settled back into the leather couch.

Ryder stayed quiet. Now that she was here, the problem seemed so much smaller, the words much harder to say.

**Ryder, I do not believe Scott will judge you if you were to share your anxieties.**

**You’re just full of opinions lately, aren’t you?**

**I am merely offering advice.**

Ryder sighed. “Tann wants me to be the keynote speaker at Pride."

“Yeah, Reyes told me.”

“He hacking into my emails now?”

Scott shrugged.

“Anyway, I haven’t told him no yet.”

“No? I thought you’d be all over this.”

“I’ve never been to Pride before.”

“Neither have I,” said Scott. “Why does that matter?”

Ryder’s eyes burned. Inside her there was angry buzzing—a pain like a closed fist that had been there every since she was a kid. It was so hard to force the words out, even with her brother who knew her better than she knew herself.

“Do you think mom and dad knew?” she asked.

“Knew what?”

“That I wasn’t straight. I never talked to them about it,” said Ryder. She hugged her arms around herself. “With you, it was always out in the open, but with me…” 

“What? Because you only dated guys before?”

“Vetra is my first girlfriend,” said Ryder. “And mom and dad never got to meet her. I never came out to them.”

Scott sat forward and set his beer on the table. “I think they knew. I mean, they weren’t exactly shocked when I told them I was taking Liam Ostberg to junior prom. They probably had the same gut feeling about you.”

“You got to tell them you were gay. Saying the words to them made it real. It made it fact. I just let them believe what they wanted to about me. It felt like because I liked guys and girls, I could hide. It made me sick to do it, to have this big secret always suffocating me, but it was easier than saying it out loud.”

“I think they knew,” said Scott again.

“That’s not the same!” Ryder started to pace. “Even if it was an open secret, even if they knew, I never made the decision. I never took control of it. I mean, I always felt like such a fraud next to you. You could own it, because you had to, but I got to hide, so who gave a shit if I stayed quiet about it forever?”

“Woah.” Scott stood and caught her. His fingertips were cold from the beer. “This is all news to me. You’ve never mentioned any of this before.”

“That’s just it, Scott." She was starting to feel sick. "I’m such a chickenshit. Everyone knows I have a girlfriend now. Not because I told them, not because I’m proud of it, but because I let people figure it out on their own. All these people are going to be at Andromeda’s first Pride, and they want me to speak at it as if I have any experience being proud of anything. I’ve never had the guts to willingly out myself, because some part of me feels ashamed of it.”

She couldn’t help it, she was starting to cry.

“I can’t do it. I can’t get up there and pretend I belong there—that I deserve to be there. I never even told mom and dad, and they’re dead now.”

Scott wrapped her in his arms. He smelled awful, but Ryder didn’t care. She felt like a muscle that had been tight inside her chest all her life was trying to force its way up her throat. She felt raw, and gross, and deeply like a child.

“This must sound really stupid to you,” she said.

“Well, yeah,” said Scott. “I never really gave a shit what mom and dad thought, or anyone else, but….look.” Scott gently pushed her back. “Pride is bullshit, all right? It’s a bunch of corporate hacks selling you rainbow gear so you can sit out in the hot sun and get wasted. The only single people there are over the age of fifty, and the ones who aren’t don’t want to talk to you anyway because they think you’re fat and your fanny pack is lame. But it’s important for like, history and stuff—”

“Scott.”

“I mean, I wish you had told me this sooner. One, so I could make fun of you, and two, because it kills me to think you’ve been holding it in all these years. I always thought you were too cool to come out, to be honest.”

She gave a sick laugh.

“There _is_ a difference in saying it,” he said. “It makes it real, even if everyone knows. And maybe mom and dad did know, and maybe they didn’t. But you can’t do anything about that now. The only thing that matters is you still have people who love you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“And none of them think you’re a chickenshit. I mean, you moved a Remnant space station with your mind, so it would be pretty hard for them to.” He wiped her eyes with his thumb. “Please talk to me about these things.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He gave her another tight hug. “Whatever you decide, I'm proud of you, all right? And if you decide to bail on it, you can always crash here on Kadara.”

“Does Reyes even have a guest bed?”

“There’s one at his flat, but trust me, you wouldn’t want to sleep on it. Or the couch. Or the coffee table—”

“God.” She shoved him away.

“Perks of dating the Charlatan, baby.” He scooped up his beer and took a swig. “Boom.”

Around the moment she was considering swiping his beer, the door opened and Reyes Vidal came prowling in.

“Ryder." He gave her a jackal smile and leaned in the doorway.

“Vidal,” she said.

“Scott,” said Scott, and finished the rest of his beer. “My sister was just talking about Pride.”

“Of course,” said Reyes.

“I take it you wouldn’t be caught dead there,” said Ryder.

“I’m a busy man,” said Reyes. “And personally…” He swept a heated look at Scott, who was swaying in the middle of the room in his underwear. “Why hang out with a bunch of queens when I have the queen of Kadara right here?”

“Oh, _god_.” Ryder plugged her ears and marched out, leaving the thumpa thumpa of Tartarus's beat behind her.

“Call me!” shouted Scott, as the door hissed shut behind her.

 

* * *

 

Tann—

I’ll do it.

Ryder

p. s.  - Try not to gloat about it. 

 

* * *

 

The event was going to be held beside a lake on Meridian. The park had been build not long after the first prefabs were constructed, not far from the where the Hyperion was now permanently docked.

The opening parade would loop around the lake along a designated road, before ending in a large green where the main stage was being erected. Vendors would line their booths along the edge of the lake, along with food stands and beer gardens. Other events, including drag shows, panels, historical exhibits, and a memorial for Jien Garson, would be held in conference halls in the city.

The estimated attendance was huge.

“It’s because people are bored.” Lexi thumbed through a bunch of asari tunics hung on a clearance rack. The store they were in- one of the few open shops in Meridian - was mostly a trade depot that gave the illusion of having actual clothing store. “It’s not like there’s anything else to do on Meridian.”

“Or,” Suvi tugged up a studded leather vest, “it could be that everyone wants to come out and show their support for the community.”

“Doubtful.” Lexi examined a severe, matronly smock with a critical eye. “Most people in the Initiative couldn’t tell you what Pride is for if they tried.”

“That’s cynical,” said Suvi.

“Do you know the history of Pride?”

Suvi pursed her lips. “My lesbian ancestors awoke one day and rode their motorcycles into downtown New York to end the patriarchy. They burned their bras, formed a lavender menace, and got home in time to watch the award-winning documentary _Ellen_.”

“And the rest is history,” said Lexi, drily.

Ryder tore through the clearance rack. Everything had the Initiative logo stitched on it.

“What do people wear to this kind of thing?” she murmured.

“Anything that shows off the goods,” said Suvi. “You want bright, trashy, and fun. Basically, the opposite of what you’re looking at.”

“I’m the keynote speaker,” said Ryder. “And the Pathfinder.”

“Not on Pride day,” said Suvi. She shoved the rack away. It squeaked on its little wheels. “On Pride day, you’re part of the wolf pack.”

“I think it’s wise to consider some professionalism,” said Lexi. “To remind people this isn’t just a party.”

Suvi pulled a t-shirt off another rack. It had the outline of a naked woman printed on it. “This. This is for you.”

“No,” said Lexi.

Ryder took the shirt. It was extra-large, extra hideous, and extra tacky.

“We can cut out the tits,” whispered Suvi, “and put yours through it.”

Ryder laughed. It was the first real laugh she had had in a long time. 

“Sure," she said. "Why not burn all the bridges?”

Lexi sighed. “In that case—” She pulled a pair of fairy wings off the costume rack. “You’ll need these to escape from Tann afterward.”

 

* * *

 

Before the departure of Ark Hyperion from the Milky Way, an LGBTQ-themed bon voyage party was held for the Andromeda Initiative's queer colonists. 

Among the objects gifted to the colonists by GLAAD Citadel were a number of historical artifacts, including multiple flags from interplanetary chapters of GLAAD and a signed self-portrait of Dani Tretheway, an agender war hero from the occupation of Shanxi. The hope of the evening was that, even across galaxies, the movement would prevail in all its intersections.

Jien Garson, who drank herself under the table, promised to organize the first Pride, once the Pathfinder figured out what "June" equated to on Habitat-7. The many unforeseen tragedies following the Initiative's arrival in Andromeda postponed the planning of the first Pride, until Direction Jarun Tann took up the mantle of coordinator for the event.  

All four Pathfinders promised to attend.

 

* * *

 

The night before the parade, Ryder sat on the bridge of the Tempest in her pajamas, gazing out over the port. The lake in the park glittered darkly, the lights of the Hyperion and the small city built in its shadow tiny dots beside it.

The bridge door hissed open. Heavy footsteps made the floor plates vibrate.

“Hey, kid.” Drack sat down slowly in Kallo’s seat, a bottle of ryncol in hand. He grimaced as his joints popped like tiny shotgun bursts. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” said Ryder. “I hate public speaking.”

“You need me to stand up there with you tomorrow?” he asked.

“Like a big gay debutante being given away by her krogan father,” said Ryder. Despite herself, she felt her throat tighten and her eyes sting. “I’d like that.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

Drack popped the cap off the ryncol. They sat in silence for a while, watching the lights glitter out in the darkness and listening to the ship hum.

“Were you going to be there anyway?” asked Ryder.

“Yeah,” said Drack. “Figured I would.”

“Nothing better to do?” said Ryder.

“Nah.” Drack took a long swig. “Got some friends I wanna see.”

“I always heard a lot of krogan turn up to these things,” said Ryder. She pulled a leg against her chest. “Was liking your own gender a big deal on Tuchanka?”

“Sometimes,” said Drack. “After the Genophage, a lot of energy got put into breeding rites. Some clans cared a lot about what people got up to in their spare time. Some didn’t. One warlord might kill you for it, another might shrug. Still, it was always a little taboo. You don’t go through centuries of obsessing over fertility and virility without getting a little weird about which krogan is fucking who.”

Ryder sensed it was more complicated than that—the way it was complicated for every race. For some aliens, it wasn’t a big deal.

For others, it was an old wound—one with a long history of pain.

“Still,” said Drack. “It’s nice to see the kids happy and open about it. You’d never see that on Tuchanka.”

Ryder wondered if, in another hundred years, the last of the old, long pain would finally bleed out. Maybe that was hoping for too much. Her parents had been kind and accepting, and she still hadn’t told them. Inside, there had still been a knot of shame inherited from long ago, still being borne out in the future.

The chair groaned. Drack rose and finished off his ryncol. His joints popped and creaked as he lumbered over to where Ryder sat and gave her head a rub.

“Hey,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. Anyone takes a shot at you, and they’ll have eight-hundred pounds of krogan turning them to jelly.”

“Thanks, pop.” Ryder gave his hand a pat. “I’m sure Vetra has a dildo you can wear.”

“If that doesn’t give Tann an aneurysm, nothing will. Goodnight, Ryder.”

“Goodnight.” The floor plates vibrated under his tread as he walked away. As the door hissed open, a thought occurred to her. “Drack?”

“Yeah?” He turned in the doorway.

“Did you ever….” She trailed off, not knowing how to say it. “Are you….?”

Drack chuckled.

“Like I said,” he said. “Got some friends I want to see.”

 

* * *

 

The hope for the Andromeda Initiative is to make a fresh start. The idea that we may break away from the sins of the old world may be too good to be true, but what is the point of striving if not to believe in the unbelievable? 

What is the purpose of moving forward, if not to look back on history and say, "we will to be better than we were?" 

 

* * *

 

“I look like an idiot,” murmured Ryder.

“You look adorable.” Vetra was painting a tiny pink, purple, and blue flag on Ryder’s left cheek. The right one was already painted with a rainbow. “You’re like a—what are they called—pixie?”

Ryder stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, dressed in rainbow tights, rainbow tutu, and rainbow fairy wings. She was draped in beads and spikes and bangles, none of which felt remotely right, but which seemed to make Vetra happy. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she felt, if not gayer, then at least ready to get drunk.

“There.” Vetra pulled the paintbrush away. “Ready to go.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Vetra’s own face was painted with colors that had something to do with Turian Pride, which, Ryder, ashamedly, knew nothing about. “Did you decide which accessory you wanted?”

“Yup.” Vetra pulled out a long, floppy, twelve inch purple dildo, complete with strap-on belts. “Already checked the ordinances. Public nudity and vulgarity is temporarily suspended for the duration of Pride weekend.”

“I’m sure Syd will be thrilled.” Ryder gave the dildo a long look, then sat down heavily on the bed.

“Hey.” Vetra tossed the dildo aside and sat down beside her. “You okay?”

“Nervous,” said Ryder. "And nauseous." 

Vetra put her arms around her. “You got me. And everyone else. Now.” She stood, and took Ryder’s hand, “let’s go do some gay shit.”

 

* * *

 

The estimates for Pride weekend attendance were woefully mistaken. It wasn’t just huge, it was overwhelming.

Nearly everyone in Meridian seemed to have turned out. There were live broadcasts on public channels of simultaneous festivities on Voeld, Havarl, and Eos. The angarans, to no one’s surprise, sent an enthusiastic delegation, and also held their own celebration on Aya.

If the messaging of just what Pride _was_ got a little muddled up in the process, that was to be expected. Some angara showed up in mourning garb, as if expecting this to be a somber memorial, while asari, marched down the sidewalks of Meridian in great blue packs, wearing nothing but g-strings and blowing air horns. Everywhere were banners, flags, and smoke from grills and deep fryers. Floats and shuttles were parked in anticipation at the start of the parade route.

Ryder’s heart thumped in her chest the whole long walk to the first float, which was adorned in a giant flower arch in the shape of the Initiative logo.

Vetra’s hand found hers, and her heartbeat slowed a little.

Addison was waiting for her. The Colonial Affairs director's tight smile was even tighter than usual. It looked like someone had hit her with a glitter bomb.

“Pathfinder.” She tapped her omnitool and synced Ryder’s into the broadcast frequency of the speakers around the park. As Ryder stepped up onto the float, Vetra and Drack behind her, she felt her stomach drop out.

Thousands of people were cheering at her.

“Good—” She cleared her throat. The feedback on the speakers became a whine, and she waited for it to pass. “Good morning everyone. Are you all ready for Pride?”

The roar was deafening. Ryder’s legs were shaking. She was already regretting this, regretting everything, when Vetra gave her hand a squeeze.

“Pride began on Earth in the year 1969. Centuries ago, hundreds of queer people began to march as part of the Gay Liberation movement. It was a demonstration against police brutality, imprisonment, discrimination, and obstruction of human rights. It was a way for queer people—those of marginalized sexual and gender identity—to come together and be out, open, and unafraid. The roots of Pride are uniquely human, but they haven’t remained that way. All of us come from different backgrounds, cultures, and home worlds. For some of you, the idea that anyone might be made to live in fear because of who they love, or because of which gender they identify as, is unfathomable. For some of us, it is a fear ingrained in the history of where we come from. Some generations had it better than we did, some had it much worse. But here, now?”

Ryder swallowed. She lifted her and Vetra’s joined hands over the crowd.

“We gather here for the first Pride in Andromeda. For some of you, it took a lot of courage to be here today. For others, it was not a matter of courage, but of wanting to be part of something greater than yourself.”

Ryder glanced sidelong at Vetra, who grinned at her.

“My name is Sara Ryder, the human Pathfinder, and I’m a big, stinking bisexual. This is my girlfriend, Vetra. She’s pretty dang cute.”

Laughter, a scattering of applause. Ryder, impossibly, felt the fear shrink away.

“On behalf of my community, I welcome everyone who came here today. You are all part of my family. Let’s start this mother!”

The crowd cheered for her. They cheered even louder when Vetra turned Ryder’s face to her and gave her a kiss. Then the crowd was pushing to either side of the road, and it was time for the parade to start.

Ryder sat down on the throne that had been provided for her. For the first time in her life, something tight inside her chest came loose.

Why had she waited so long to do that?

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day flew by in a blur. There was funnel cake, vodka, and boobs, lots of boobs. After the parade ended, Vetra and Ryder found their way to where the crew had erected a tent on the green. Gil was there wearing sunglasses and sitting in a lawn chair, a giant mug with the words “Shhh, Daddy’s Drinking” on it clutched in his fist. Suvi sat on an inflatable couch beside him, Jill on her right, Kallo on her left. Lexi was there too, in a doughty sunhat with too much sunscreen. Cora and Liam sat on beach towels on the grass, each of them, a little embarrassingly, wearing “Proud Ally” shirts.

Drack had a separate tent nearby. True to his word, there were three other old krogan sitting around him, all of them wasted before noon.

On the grass between them was an urn. It was never said who it belonged to.

The day passed in a haze of booze, smoke, and music. There was an eight-person alien band made up of eight different genders, an asari quartet who were some sort of famous pureblood polyamorous group, a turian duo who spent half of their songs making out, and a bunch of queercore music that Ryder didn’t exactly like, but made her feel homey and warm all the same. Peebee and Jaal showed up late, each of them weighed down with plastic bags full of chips and salsa and food paste. Kari stopped in for a quick interview, then flittered off with her girlfriend. At one point, Ryder saw Avitus Rix, looking lost and alone, until he disappeared again into the crowd.

“Hey.” Vetra touched her knee. “You’ve been quiet.”

“I keep waiting for someone to tell me I don’t belong here,” said Ryder. She felt dazed, and dumb, and more than a little drunk. The fear that had lived inside her chest since she was a little girl was gone, but the doubt was still there. Maybe it would always be there.

If it was, the idea wasn’t as scary as before.

“If anyone does,” said Vetra, “I’ll clobber them.”

“I know,” said Ryder. “That’s why I love you.”

 

* * *

 

The last gift given to Jien Garsen by GLAAD Citadel was a time capsule, containing keepsakes from all the families, lovers, and friends who would be left behind. 

Such time capsules were common parting gifts in the days before the departure of the Andromeda Initiative. This capsule, however, in addition to being filled with letters and small treasures, was engraved over and over thousands of times with words in over a hundred languages, the simple mantra that had been chosen by the Citadel queer community as a goodbye. 

"Go forth and love, 

Go forth and live gloriously,

Go forth and be brave. 

Be Brave.

Be Brave.

Be Brave."

 


End file.
